


Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness

by blackmariahlee



Series: The Serpent and the Lion [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depressed Harry, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Grief/Mourning, Harry Potter is a hot hot mess, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Narcissa Black Malfoy is a Good Parent, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24166507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackmariahlee/pseuds/blackmariahlee
Summary: Draco Malfoy is trying to start over now that the war has finally ended. He has moved to the continent, enrolled in the Healer program in Paris, and has done his best to put both physical and emotional distance between him and the war. But on Samhain, just as the ghosts of the dead return to disturb the living, Draco has found himself haunted by Harry Potter.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Narcissa Black Malfoy, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: The Serpent and the Lion [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538254
Comments: 37
Kudos: 103





	1. Here Is No Why

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so...first things first, my bad for the long wait. First I got the flu (or possibly COVID, who knows!) and then it was my birthday and then I was on vacation and then a global pandemic broke out and everything went straight to hell. So...whoops. Second, the response to this series has been overwhelming! I never expected much more than a few kudos. Thank you so much to everyone who has read the series, left kudos, or left comments. And lastly, please, please, PLEASE take note of the tags! I wanted to say Suicidal Ideation but it's not a tag on here. There is not any explicit talk of suicide or plans and there is no talk of self-harm. I added eating disorder after some deliberation. I wouldn't necessarily categorize Harry's issues as such but I wanted to be on the safe side. So, take care of yourselves! If you would like more detail on the tags, send me a message and I will let you know!

It was getting late when Draco Malfoy Apparated into the living area of the flat that he and his mother were renting in Paris. Mother had practically begged him to be home by ten. And he was relieved to notice that he had just made it. To be honest, Draco had been happy to have his mother’s anxiety as an excuse to leave the Samhain gathering early. While the war had not truly reached the continent, he was still wary of large gatherings. And he hadn’t really known anyone there. His mother was sitting in her favorite armchair that they had brought over from the Manor. One of the few pieces that had made the move. She was asleep under a new throw from Molly Weasley and Draco smiled. 

Narcissa Malfoy was stronger than any of the Death Eaters had given her credit for. And certainly more than the Dark Lord had thought. He still felt a surge of pride and vindictive glee when he thought of his mother lying to the Dark Lord’s face. It had been difficult for both of them, but especially Mother, to move from the Manor to a relatively small flat. But she had done what she could with the space. And Molly had sent over the throw as a housewarming gift. The Weasley matriarch seemed to have a tendency to adopt those in need of a loving mother. Draco walked over to his mother and carefully tucked the blanket around her more securely. She stirred and opened her eyes to look up at him. 

“Right on time, dear.” Mother gave him a small smile. “Did you enjoy yourself?” 

“As well as can be expected I suppose.” Draco returned her smile and then moved to sit on the couch. This was new and Draco wasn’t sure he loved it. “Blaise was there.”

“Ah. And how was Mr. Zabini?” She sat up and gave her son an appraising look. 

“He was fine. He does not seem to want to take no for an answer.” Draco crossed his arms and leaned back into the couch. “It’s getting to be a bit frustrating.” 

“Perhaps you will need to be firmer with him, Draco. Or perhaps I can speak with him.” She gave him a small, mischievous smile. “Perhaps if you informed him that you are currently involved with the man who defeated the Dark Lord he would be less inclined to bother you.” Draco shook his head but couldn’t stop the smile. 

“Harry and I are not involved. Not...strictly speaking.” He avoided her gaze. “And even if we were, Blaise needs to respect my boundaries and not yours or Harry’s.” 

“I agree.” She pulled the throw off of her lap and carefully folded it up. “Have you heard from Harry lately?” 

“He wrote last week. I haven’t had a chance to reply.” Draco sighed. 

While the choice to remain friends and nothing more had been a mutual decision, they were both struggling with what that meant. At least Draco was. He worried about Harry constantly. And Harry ended every letter with an ‘I miss you’. Draco needed to spend some time just being with himself. He needed to focus on his studies and on providing for his mother. And he needed to work on rebuilding their lives in Paris and in London. If they ever hoped of returning to the UK. So it only made sense that they did not engage in a more...intimate relationship at the time. Draco only wished that made him feel better about the whole arrangement. 

“Mmmm.” Mother hummed as she stood from her chair. “I have been thinking about him quite a bit this week. Sirius’ birthday is coming up soon and of course he must be struggling today.” She laid the throw across the back of the chair. 

“What do you mean?” Draco frowned as he looked up at her. She gave him a gentle smile and walked over to the couch to sit beside him. 

“It would have been seventeen years ago today.” Mother put an arm around his shoulder and pulled him into her side. “I still remember that day. When your father told me what the Dark Lord intended to do...” She trailed off and Draco felt a small shudder. “You and Harry were only a few weeks apart. I spent the whole evening watching you sleep.” Mother ran her fingers through his hair. “I cried when I heard the news. Not for the fall of the Dark Lord. But the terror that Lily Potter must have felt. And that little boy, not unlike my own little boy...” She squeezed his shoulder. “Alone. No father, no mother. No family save for Muggles.”

“Those Muggles were no family of his.” Draco hissed and Mother tightened her grip again. He leaned his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes. He breathed in the soothing scent of jasmine that always clung to her.

“I know they weren’t, dear.” She kissed the top of his head. “Poor child spent ten years completely alone.” She sighed softly. “I almost wish I had been there with you that day in Madam Malkin’s. Perhaps it wouldn’t have changed anything. Perhaps it would have only put him in more danger.” 

“Harry wondered that too.” He huffed out a laugh. “The Sorting Hat wanted to put him in Slytherin. He asked me if I thought we all would have tried to kill him that first year.”

“Certainly someone would have. I know Severus never had any love for the boy. Too much of his father in him.” She shook her head, a small smile on her face. “James and Sirius were wild at school. And James hated Severus more than you ever thought you hated Harry.” 

“I never knew they were in school together.” Draco frowned. 

“Oh yes. They were in the same year. Even in their third year, James was already a Quidditch star. He, Sirius, and Lupin were too smart for their own good. Lucius positively loved to take points from them. Though, from what you have told me, Harry gave them a run for their money in trouble making.” 

“He had a knack for it. I never knew it was genetic.”

“I found it rather fitting that neither James nor Harry made prefect. The honor was given to their more responsible friends.”

“Really? The way people talk about James Potter, I would have thought he was a prefect.” Draco frowned thoughtfully. 

“No. Actually Remus Lupin was made prefect with Lily. I think Dumbledore’s fervent hope was that Mr. Lupin would be able to exercise some control over his friends. As having Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger as prefects did little to control Harry, I am sure you can imagine how well this plan worked.” 

“Harry said that Teddy is doing well. He is convinced that Teddy said his name the other day. I think both myself and Aunt Andromeda did not have the heart to tell him.” 

“Mmmm.” Mother ran her fingers through his hair. “Another war. Another orphan.” 

“At least Teddy will have Harry and Andromeda looking after him.” Draco sighed softly. Harry had finally gone to see his godson at the end of August. And had promptly fell in love. He was currently waging a campaign to get Draco to visit over Christmas to meet the baby. And Draco was sorely tempted to go. Not only to meet his cousin but to see Harry. And to see Harry with a baby. 

“And how is he getting on with his Auror training?” 

“Well. He had just gotten his NEWT scores back. Outstanding in everything save for Potions. But he was pleased with an Exceeds there.” Draco smiled fondly. “He was rather surprised by his scores. But it turns out when he actually studies and applies himself, he is quite intelligent.” 

“He is going to be the Ministry’s darling boy in no time.” Narcissa smiled and kissed the top of his head. Draco did his best not to scowl at his mother’s choice of words. Harry did not belong to him. It was ridiculous to be jealous of anyone else calling him darling. “You two would make quite the pair in a few years. Brilliant Healer and star Auror.” 

“Perhaps.” Draco sat up and sighed. “But before that, I need to actually finish my studies and find gainful employment.” 

“I know.” Narcissa squeezed his hand as she stood from the couch. “Tell Harry that I am thinking of him. And congratulations on his NEWTs.” 

“I will, Mother.” Draco kissed the back of her hand. 

“Good night, my little dragon. Sleep well.” 

“Good night, Mother.” Draco watched her disappear into her bedroom. There was a part of him that rankled at living with his mother at eighteen. He should have been out on his own, making a name for himself, marrying a good pureblood girl and starting a family. Another, much bigger part of him was relieved to still have his mother. And to have her here with him. A soothing and familiar presence in an otherwise unfamiliar place. 

Draco had settled well enough into the Healer program in Paris. Only a few of his classmates and professors gave him sidelong glances. And he managed not to care about that too much. At least in France, the Malfoy name still held some respect. Enough to keep people from asking out loud or to his face what that mark on his forearm meant. That was enough for Draco to get along with. More importantly, he was genuinely enjoying his classes. He found himself challenged daily by the coursework and it kept him busy. Quite busy enough to keep the likes of Blaise Zabini at bay. Blaise was not in the healer program, thank Merlin, but he was attending the same university. 

He groaned and let his head fall back against the couch. For whatever reason, Blaise was intent on getting Draco to go out with him. Draco suspected it had a lot more to do with getting Draco into bed with him. And tonight, he had made the horrible mistake of snogging the arrogant prat. The arrogant prat who happened to be rather a good kisser. They had spent the better part of the evening attached at the lips. Draco blamed the copious amounts of alcohol that had been around them. And the familiarity of Blaise. Draco didn’t need to worry about being hexed with him. But then he had come home and his mother had reminded him that while he had been out having a decent evening and making out with a fit bloke...Harry had been living through the anniversary of his parents death. 

To be fair to his mother, Draco had felt rather guilty as soon as his lips touched Blaise. And he had spent the first few kisses thinking of how different it was to the ones he had shared with Harry. And how different Blaise felt under his hands. And that, while snogging Blaise had been nice enough, he missed Harry. And would much rather have been snogging him all night. Or shagging him all night. Or even just holding him. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

Draco was still surprised at how quickly the two of them had gone from mortal enemies to friends to... Well, it remained to be seen. They had certainly engaged in activities that normal friends did not engage in. And that was very hard to believe. If someone had told fourteen-year-old Draco that one day he would have multiple sexual encounters with Harry Potter, he would have hexed them for even suggesting that Draco might be gay much less fancy Harry Potter.

To this day, he still blamed that damned dragon. When Harry had summoned his broom and jumped on it, Draco couldn’t help but cheer. And then that damn Gryffindor had gone on to do some of the best flying that Draco had ever seen. How could he not admire Harry when he had landed, hair an absolute disaster and his uniform singed? It was the first time that Draco had realized that Harry was rather beautiful. He had almost wished that he had been the one waiting in the Black Lake for him instead of stupid Weasley. That would have been impossible back then and Draco had had to console himself that it wasn’t a bloody girl or fit bloke. 

The war had been difficult and painful for both of them. And though they had been on opposing sides, they had both had similar experiences. Draco still woke up in a cold sweat some nights with that high laugh still echoing in his ears. He could still feel the ache in his left arm as though the Mark had been placed just last week. Sometimes his wand hand still shook when he raised it to cast a spell. And he remembers the ice-cold fear and dread he had felt at seeing Harry’s lifeless body. He sighed and desperately wanted to know that Harry was okay. Perhaps he could try to fire call. Draco stood from the couch and walked over to the fireplace. He took a handful of Floo powder and tossed it in. 

“Harry?” Draco called into the flames once he had connected to Grimmauld. He could make out the kitchen where they had eaten dinner a couple months ago. But not much else. 

“Master Draco is calling for Master Harry...”

“...Kreacher?” He turned his head as best he could to try and see the house elf. “Kreacher, is Harry about? I would like to speak with him.” 

“Master Harry is being...indisposed, Kreacher is afraid. Is there being a message that Master Draco would like Kreacher to be passing on?”

“Oh. I suppose...no. Thank you, Kreacher.” Draco frowned. “Is he all right?” 

“Of course. Master Harry is being perfectly fine.” Kreacher bowed a bit and ranted at the floor. “Master is a halfblood brat asking Kreacher to lie to good pureblood boy like Master Draco...”

“Are you sure he is all right? You can tell me, Kreacher.” Draco wondered if Harry had reacted poorly to Draco surreptitiously giving his house elf orders. Perhaps he just didn’t want Draco to keep bothering him. Or would Kreacher have lied to anyone? 

“Master Draco is asking if Kreacher is sure? Kreacher is being sure that Master Harry is disgracing the noble house of Black. Just like ungrateful Master Sirius that was breaking Mistress’ poor heart. My poor Mistress being ripped off the wall like that. Master Harry is not even being a true Black. Master Draco is a truer Black and Kreacher should like to serve him instead of this halfblood brat who besmirches the name of my Mistress...” 

“Kreacher?” Draco interrupted the tirade. He was getting a bit concerned. It was possible that the old elf was being a bit dramatic. But the last time Draco had been at Grimmauld, the elf seemed to at least have a begrudging fondness for Harry. “Perhaps I could just come through?”

“Master Harry is saying no guests. Master is not seeing any guests, taking any calls, owls, letters, or half Giants, and Master is not allowing Kreacher to be leaving the house in any way, shape, or form.” It was clear to Draco that the elf was repeating something that Harry must have said to him at some point. There was a loud crash on the other side of the fire and Draco jerked his head at the sound. Kreacher glanced behind him and hunched further over. “Begging your pardon, Master Draco. Master Harry is--” He was interrupted by another loud thud followed by shouted cursing. 

“...You said it yourself, Kreacher. I am more of a Black than Harry is. That house is just as much mine as it is his. Surely that does not make me a guest. I have every right to go into that house whenever I feel like it.” Draco was convinced that if he could just see Harry with his own eyes, his worry and paranoia would be soothed. 

“Master Draco is making much more sense than Master Harry.” Kreacher nodded once to himself. “Yes, of course, Master Draco is always welcome in 12 Grimmauld Place.” He bowed lowly this time and swept his arm out in welcome. Draco smirked in triumph before he pulled back, stood, and stepped into the fireplace. 

Draco stepped gracefully out of the fireplace in the kitchen and dusted himself off. There was nothing amiss in the kitchen at first glance. It was fairly clean and tidy. But as he stepped further into the room, he could see several plates full of food all lined up on the counter. None of them appeared to have been touched. Draco frowned. Kreacher was clearly trying to feed Harry, as Draco had asked him to do, but Harry did not appear to be eating. 

He heaved a sigh and climbed the stairs up to the entry hall. And then stopped as he turned the corner onto the landing. Wallpaper was peeling itself from the wall in large swathes, the hideous troll leg umbrella stand was missing, the curtained portrait was gone, and the elf heads lining the wall up the stairs had disappeared. The carpet and the dust that had collected over it had also vanished. The lamps burned a little brighter than Draco remembered. While it was an overall massive improvement, it didn’t look particularly good. It looked haphazard and unfinished. 

“Harry?” Draco called at the foot of the stairs leading up to the next floor. There was a thud, more cursing, and then Harry was standing on the landing. And he couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps the house was more tied to Harry than Draco had initially thought. They seemed to match so well in appearance that he thought that must be the case. 

Harry looked...unkempt was the nicest word that came to mind. He had not cut his hair since Draco had seen him and it was tied back, half up and half down. His cheeks and jaw were dark with stubble from the last couple days at least. His glasses were sitting crooked on his nose. He wore an oversized Gryffindor sweater and loose-fitting grey joggers. And there was a half-empty bottle of firewhiskey dangling from his hand. 

“Draco?” Harry frowned and shook his head once. He glanced at the bottle in his hand before he raised it to his lips and took a drink. “What’re you doin’ here?” 

“I...Mother was worried about you.” Draco stared back up at him. Harry snorted and rolled his eyes. 

“Tell your mother that I’m fine.” He took another drink and moved back into the drawing room he had walked out of. “Tell Narcissa I’m fine and tell Molly I’m fine and tell Andromeda I’m fine and tell Hermione I’m fine...” Harry was shouting by the time he got to the end of his list. Draco closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath before he started up the stairs.

The drawing room looked like it had suffered the same fate as the entrance hall. Wallpaper was all over the floor and peeling off the walls. And the couch was gone. Or rather...the couch had been destroyed. There were pieces of that awful fabric and bits of stuffing and splintered wood all over the room. Draco wondered if someone had cast a  _ Reducto _ at the damn thing. And Harry was standing in the middle of the room, staring at the tapestry, and twirling his wand in his free hand. 

“I see you’ve redecorated.” Draco leaned against the doorframe. Harry snorted and took another drink. “I can’t say that I love what you’ve done with the place but it is certainly an improvement. Though, I don’t think the couch deserved such harsh treatment.” 

“Fuck that couch.” Harry hissed. He lifted his wand and aimed at the tapestry. There was a bright spark and a spot on the tree burned briefly. “And fuck Phineas Nigellus. How does it feel to have a nasty halfblood blast your fucking arse off your own stupid family tree? Your awful fucking portrait is next. ‘m done having people spy on me...” 

“Harry, darling, perhaps you should go to bed. Leave the redecorating for tomorrow.” Draco stepped further into the room to stand next to Harry. 

“Nope.” Harry shook his head and took another drink. “Turns out this place is haunted you know. Or...I am. Maybe a little of both.”

“You do realize that the castle you slept in and lived in for six years was also rather haunted? If I recall correctly, you were on friendly terms with a few of the resident ghosts.” 

“Myrtle liked me fine until you came along.” Harry muttered. “Not that I blame her. I like you better than me too.” 

“Harry, give me the firewhiskey and let’s get you to bed.” Draco reached out for the bottle but Harry pulled back rather violently and almost lost his balance. 

“Not going to bed. Jesus bleeding Christ, you know what would be nice? If everyone just stopped telling me what the fuck to do!” Harry shouted. Several more points on the tapestry sparked and more wallpaper fell to the floor. Draco started and looked around the room. And then thought of the entry. That was why everything looked so haphazard. Harry wasn’t doing this on purpose. It was his magic lashing out, angry and unbidden. 

“May I ask why you are taking your anger out on the house? It’s upsetting Kreacher. And the house never did anything to you.” 

“The house never...” Harry mumbled under his breath. He took another drink. “I am taking my anger out on the house because the people who deserve it aren’t here.” He shook his head and tipped the bottle back again. “Nope. None of them are here. They’re all dead. Every single one of them is dead and it’s cuz of me. I killed them. All I’ve ever wanted was a family and I’ve killed every person that was or that tried. It’s ironic.” 

“...Harry, stop it.” Draco moved closer but Harry stumbled back again. “You did not kill anyone. You are not responsible for their deaths.” 

“I really am. Cuz of a stupid fucking prophecy.” Harry drained the bottle and threw it at the wall covered in the tapestry. “Cuz of a stupid fucking prophecy, I’m in this stupid fucking house all alone.” 

“You are not alone. I’m standing right here.” 

“Oh, fuck you, Draco. You’re here right now cuz your mum was worried. Otherwise you are off in Paris. Being brilliant and wonderful on the continent far away from me and the mess left in my wake. I get it. The ones I don’t kill just end up leaving. ‘s fine. Better they leave than they die.” Harry moved to walk out the door and Draco grabbed him. 

“That is enough, Harry. You have got to stop doing this to yourself. I am not going to sit here and watch you drink yourself to death. It isn’t going to bring them back. Not any of them. Who is this helping?” He held Harry by the shoulders and tried to get him to look him in the eye. Harry would not meet his eyes, his gaze fixed on the wall over Draco’s shoulder.

“It’s helping me. It’s...cathartic or something.” Harry shrugged his hands off and brushed past him to the landing. “You’ve checked on me. I’m fine. Go home, Draco.” He stood at the top of the stairs before he sighed and held his hand out. After another moment, a fresh bottle of firewhiskey flew into his hand. Harry nodded, satisfied, and turned around to go up the stairs. There was a soft pop beside him and Draco glanced down at Kreacher. 

“How long has he been like this?” He stared up the stairs where Harry had disappeared.

“Master is being in a foul mood since he is getting home yesterday. He is not eating dinner last night or breakfast this morning or lunch this afternoon or dinner this evening. Making his way through Master Orion’s firewhiskey stores instead. Kreacher is trying to obey Master Draco’s orders to make the Potter brat be eating but Master Harry is hardly touching his food. Or sleeping through the night.” 

“It’s all right, Kreacher. You tried at least and I appreciate that. I’ll take care of him.” Draco climbed the stairs to the next floor and hesitated on the landing. Harry was certainly in a mood. And he had already started in a bit on Draco. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear more. But he also could not leave Harry like this. Merlin only knew what might happen if Draco left now. Come to think of it, why was Harry alone? Why wasn’t he with the Weasleys? Or even Andromeda and Teddy? Why was he alone in Grimmauld Place during Samhain trying to drink himself to death? 

Harry was standing on the bed in his bedroom and he was glaring at a Muggle poster on the wall over the bed. Draco hadn’t even noticed the poster last time he had been in this room. Of course, he had been rather distracted by Harry’s request to shag him. And then thoroughly distracted by a naked, moaning Harry under him. He shook his head to clear it of those memories. Now was decidedly not the time for an encore performance.

“Harry?” The other man started and fell back onto the bed. He turned to look at Draco and sighed. 

“Fucks sake, Draco. What do you want?”

“Ideally? I would like you to hand me that bottle and let me put you to bed.”

“Not bloody likely.” He broke the seal on the aforementioned bottle and took a drink. Harry set the bottle down and stood back on the bed. “Fucking Sirius and his stupid fucking rebellious attitude...” He tried to grip the sides of the poster and growled in frustration. 

“I thought Sirius was gay?” Draco sat down on the edge of the bed. If Harry wasn’t going to go to sleep, at least maybe Draco could get him to talk about what he was feeling rather than keep destroying the house. 

“Guess he figured he could only push his mum so far.” Harry snorted again. “Turned out to be right. Fucking bitch.” He managed to slip his fingers under the poster and started to tear it off the wall. Draco could feel the angry crackle of his magic in the air. 

“I’m surprised you don’t want to leave that up. In his memory or what have you.” 

“Nope. Fuck his memory. Fuck Sirius.” Harry tore the poster off and crumpled it up before dropping it to the floor. 

“I thought you loved your godfather?” Draco raised an eyebrow as Harry dropped down onto the bed. 

“Yeah, well, he didn’t love me.” 

“Harry, you are being ridiculous.” 

“And you aren’t listening!” Harry reached for the bottle. “He could have stayed here, where he was safe, and let the rest of the Order take care of my stupidity. But no. He had to come and rescue me from playing hero and he got himself killed. Like a reckless fucking idiot.” 

“He went because he loved you.” Draco desperately wanted to reach out to him. He wanted to take Harry in his arms and hold him. But Harry had so far been resistant to any physical contact and Draco didn’t want to push him. 

“Bollocks.” Harry took another long drink. “He could have stayed alive if he had cared about me at all. And he didn’t. So fuck him. Fuck Sirius Black.” He paused with the bottle halfway to his lips. “You know what, fuck Remus Lupin. And fuck Albus Dumbledore! And fuck Severus Snape!” Harry took a drink and winced. “Fuck James Potter. And fuck Lily Evans.” His voice cracked and he scrubbed a hand over his face. 

“Harry...” Draco felt like something was squeezing his chest too tightly. And he ached to do something, anything to make Harry look less miserable. 

“If they had loved me, they could have stayed alive. They could have stayed out of the whole stupid fucking war and just... Fuck.” Harry roughly wiped at his eyes. “But instead they had to get involved. And they trusted the wrong person. And they ended up dead.” He took another drink and then buried his head in his hands. 

“...They all died because of me. Or they died for me. And ‘m not worth it.” He shook his head but didn’t raise it. “’m not worth even one of them. Not one of them. They should have lived. Not me. ‘m nothing special. They made me special by dying. Someone should’ve told ‘em they could have another kid. Not that hard.” Harry raised his head now to take another long drink. His eyes were red and his cheeks were wet. And Draco had reached his limit. 

“All right. That’s enough.” He reached over and took the bottle out of Harry’s hands.

“Hey! I was drinkin’ that!” Harry moved to grab it back but Draco was quicker. He set the bottle down on the floor and grabbed Harry instead. “Draco, stop it. Lemme go!” 

“No. I will not.” Draco tightened his grip on his upper arms. “I have heard quite enough out of you. So now I think it is your turn to listen.” He pushed Harry onto his back on the bed and straddled his hips to pin him down. 

“Not really in the mood right now.” Harry glared up at him. “Get off me.” 

“Oddly enough, neither am I. As it happens, I find drunk Gryffindors to be a bit of a turn off.” Draco sat back to be able to look down at him better. “Your parents' deaths were not your fault. Yes, they died protecting you. That is what people do for the ones they love, as you should be well aware of. They die for them. They kill for them. But you are not responsible for their deaths.” Harry rolled his eyes and looked away. Draco gripped his chin and turned him back to look at him. 

“It was not your fault. And it was not your parents’ fault. The only person to blame is Tom Riddle. And you saw to it that he could never harm another person again. I think that your parents would disagree that you are not worth the sacrifice. And do you think that Sirius could have ever forgiven himself if something had happened to you in your foolish attempt to save him?” Harry flinched and Draco felt bad for bringing it up but he needed to hear this. “As for everyone else that you seem to think you personally killed: they decided to fight in a war because they believed in what they were fighting for. They believed that Tom Riddle was wrong and he could not be allowed to take over the UK and spread to the rest of the world. 

“And yes, they believed in you. They believed in your courage and your ability and your determination. And we all kept believing even when we thought you were dead.” Draco had to fight to keep his eyes open and on Harry. He had never told Harry about this. And maybe when Harry was so drunk wasn’t the best time but it was now or never. “When I saw you in Hagrid’s arms...it nearly broke me.” 

“What? We weren’t even friends then.” Harry was still glaring up at Draco. But now he looked confused as well. 

“No, no we weren’t.” Draco gave him a small smile. “But after sixth year and after seeing you in the Manor...I knew I wanted you to win. I knew that I couldn’t live in a world without Harry Potter. Without you. And that is still very true. So I am not going to just sit back and let you drown yourself in guilt and alcohol.” 

Harry stared up at him. His green eyes were wide and red. And tears were steadily streaming silently down his cheeks. Draco brushed hair back off of his forehead and Harry closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. After a moment, he let out a choked off sob and Draco pulled him up and into his arms. 

“It’s not fucking fair.” Harry cried into his shoulder. He gripped Draco’s shirt tightly in his hands like he would slip through his fingers. “None of it’s fair.” 

“I know it isn’t, darling.” Draco carded his fingers through his dark hair. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

Draco held Harry as he sobbed into the crook of his neck. He kept one hand in his hair, gently running his fingers through messy, greasy hair. And his other hand stroked up and down Harry’s back as he felt bile rise in his throat. He could feel vertebra and count most of Harry’s ribs. Perhaps it wasn’t that his clothes were oversized but that Harry had lost so much weight. Again. Despite his constant assurance that he was fine and eating and sleeping...Draco was beginning to understand how far Harry was willing to go to keep people from seeing how hurt and vulnerable he was. Was the idiot seriously trying to kill himself? 

“I should have just stayed dead...” Harry whispered hoarsely against his neck, as though reading his thoughts. Draco swallowed down the bile as he felt his blood turn to ice. “I-I knew Nev would take care of Nagini and that R-Ron and Hermione would see it done...I could have gotten on that train and seen my parents again. And S-Sirius. It would have been so much easier...” 

“Easy for who?” Draco couldn’t help the biting response. He took a deep breath. “Was it not Dumbledore who once said that we had to make the choice between what is right and what is easy?” He pulled back to look at Harry. “I know that this is not easy. And I know that it hasn’t been and it won’t be. But, darling, you spent seventeen years fighting and just surviving. You deserve to live.” 

“...It’s hurts too fucking much.” Harry gasped out and Draco could see the anger starting to reignite in his eyes. 

“I know it does.” Draco swiped his thumbs over his cheeks, gently wiping the tears away. It felt suspiciously like his own heart was breaking as he looked into those green eyes. Green eyes that had taunted and haunted his nightmares. And now featured prominently in his more pleasant dreams.

“Dumbledore told me after Sirius died that to feel pain like this was to be human. ...I told him I didn’t want to be human anymore. That I...that I didn’t want to do it anymore.” His voice trembled as he spoke. “I think...I think he thought that I was talking about the war but...” 

“...You were suicidal at 15 and Dumbledore had no idea?” Harry shrugged. 

“More like 14.” Draco felt the icy chill in his veins and felt that it was pulling him down. The weight of so much ice pulling him down into the bed and into those damn eyes. “That was the first time I thought about it. During the Triwizard Tournament. Ron wouldn’t talk to me. The whole school hated me.” Draco winced. “I thought, wizards and witches have died during the tasks before. I could just...” Harry trailed off. “And then that summer...after Riddle and C-Cedric...And nobody would tell me anything. And fucking Dudley kept...” 

“Harry? Have you ever told anyone about this?” Draco was cradling his face in his hands as if he could retroactively protect him from all of the pain and the suffering. Some of which he had been directly responsible for. 

“No.” He shook his head and closed his eyes, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. “Hermione might’ve suspected but she never said anything and neither did I.” 

Draco pulled him back into his arms and closed his eyes. He had to memorize the feeling of holding Harry in his arms. How had everyone been so blind? How had nobody ever seen how badly Harry was suffering? Why had he not seen and reached out and... And what? Until sixth year, Draco had been a self-obsessed prat determined to make Harry’s life miserable. And then in sixth year...in Myrtle’s bathroom...they could have helped each other. Instead Draco had tried to cast an Unforgiveable Curse on him. And Harry had nearly killed him. 

“...Thank you for telling me, Harry.” Draco sighed shakily against the top of his head. “You can always talk to me. About anything.” He kissed his head and pulled back again. “I meant what I said earlier. I cannot live in a world without you. And I know that Hermione and Molly and even Ron feel the same way. We are here for you, darling. You are not alone.” 

“Then why do I feel so alone?” Harry pulled further back and stood up. “I can’t depend on other people to help me or be there for me cuz one day you might just...” He trailed off and swayed a little where he stood. 

“Harry?” Draco stood from the bed as well. 

“’m fine...just...” Harry reached out with one hand to steady himself against the bed. “...Fuck, ‘m just...” His knees buckled and he fell to the floor in a heap. 

“Harry?!” Draco rushed to his side and his knees hit the floor painfully as he knelt to check on him. “Harry, can you hear me?” He lifted his head and pulled him into his lap. Harry’s brow furrowed and he slowly blinked his eyes open. “Merlin, Harry, are you all right? What happened?” 

“...Dizzy.” Harry managed to croak out and Draco sighed. 

“Of course. I should think so. When did you eat last?” 

“...Kreacher gave me something for breakfast...Friday morning?” He closed his eyes and grimaced. Harry tried to get up. 

“Stop it. Just--” 

“Gonna be sick.” Harry looked ashen and had broken out in a sweat. Draco released him and he bolted up from the floor and practically ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Draco leaned back against the footboard of the bed. He was beginning to think that this may be beyond his abilities. Perhaps he would need reinforcements. He winced as he heard Harry vomit in the next room. 

“Kreacher?” 

“Yes, Master Draco?” 

“Can you go to our flat in Paris and ask my mother if she would be amenable to joining me here in Grimmauld Place? And if she would be willing to bring some antiemetic, analgesic, and rehydrating potions?” 

“Of course, Master Draco. Kreacher will return with Mistress Cissy and potions or just with potions.” He bowed lowly before he Disapparated with a crack. 

Draco took a deep breath before he pushed himself to stand. He approached the bathroom door and could hear Harry still bringing up probably an entire bottle of firewhiskey. As though the emotional upheaval of the last couple days weren’t bad enough, now the poor dear was upheaving the contents of his stomach. Though, his sympathy tempered a bit since Harry had done this to himself. He knocked on the door. 

“Harry?” 

“’m fine! Go away!” 

“I think your stomach and I disagree with that assessment, darling.” Draco leaned against the wall beside the door. “Besides, I should think it was rather obvious at this point that you are not going to get rid of me quite so easily.” The door opened and he peered inside. 

“...You were the one that wanted to get away from me. Seems like I got rid of you just fine. Or I guess...you got rid of me. Either way.” Harry waved his hand from his position resting his head on the toilet. “Jus’ go home.” 

“If you had gotten rid of me, I would not be here.” Draco crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you done being sick?” 

“Dunno.” Harry closed his eyes and leaned back against the counter. “Still feel nauseous. ‘nd dizzy.” 

“That’s because you haven’t eaten in roughly 48 hours and instead have been drinking your weight in whiskey.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Do you think you can make it back to your bed?” Harry glanced up at him. 

“Do I have to?” 

“Well, no. But I think you’re neck and back will not appreciate you attempting to sleep leaning against the bathroom counter.” He groaned and then pushed himself to his feet. When he swayed again, Draco was there to grab his elbow and steady him. Together they made it back to the bed and Harry collapsed on top of it. “Perhaps in the future you will not drink too much.” 

“Didn’t drink too much...” Harry rolled on his side and curled into a ball. 

“I really must disagree. You have made yourself sick.” 

“But it still hurts. Was tryin’ to not feel anythin’.” He closed his eyes. “Make the room stop spinning.” 

“I am not doing anything to the room, darling.” Draco sighed. He sat on the bed next to Harry and ran his hand up and down his back. “Try to rest.” His companion grunted in response but kept his eyes closed and scooted closer to Draco. 

Draco tried to soothe both Harry and himself with his repetitive motions. Tonight was not going the way that he had expected. First his questionable snogging session with Blaise and now a pissed and potentially suicidal Harry. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back to rest against the headboard. After the Samhain gathering, Draco had fully intended to tell Harry what had happened but now he wasn’t so sure. Maybe getting involved with Harry in any way had been a huge mistake. Things could never really be simple between them. 

He wished he could say that he was surprised by the revelation that the man beside him had contemplated ending his own life. But no. That wasn’t quite right. Harry had expressed the desire to die and to possibly just let himself be killed. What had his mind healer called it? Passive suicidal ideation. Draco had struggled with similar thoughts in sixth year and in the last year. It hadn’t been so much that he wanted to die. He had just not wanted to keep doing what he was doing. And dying seemed the easiest solution. Regardless, after everything that Harry had been through, it wasn’t a surprise that he would want it all to stop. It didn’t ease the ache in his chest though. 

“Draco?” His mother called from what sounded like the ground floor. 

“Upstairs, Mother. Sirius’ old room.” Draco tried to make his voice carry without disturbing Harry. He wasn’t entirely sure he had succeeded as Harry scrunched his nose and buried his head against Draco’s thigh. 

“What in Merlin’s name happened here?” Narcissa looked perplexed and a bit worried. “It looks like a battle raged downstairs.” 

“No battle. Just this git.” He glanced down at Harry. “The idiot decided to drink a few bottles of firewhiskey and redecorate the house.” Narcissa sighed and walked over to them. She gently tucked a lock of black hair behind Harry’s ear. 

“Poor dear.” 

“Did you bring the potions I asked for?” 

“I did. You’re lucky that we had a store left over.” Narcissa pulled her wand out and summoned her bag. “I assume the antiemetic first?” 

“Yes. Otherwise I doubt he will keep the other ones down.” Draco pulled Harry into his lap and bit back a smile at the small whine. “Sit up, darling. I have some potions that will make you feel less miserable.” 

“Uh-uh.” 

“Would you prefer to spend the next day being incredibly ill?” Harry shook his head. “I thought not. Come on. Sit up for me.” Draco uncorked the potion as Harry struggled to sit up in bed. He handed the bottle over and watched Harry swallow and grimace. “Better?” 

“Little bit.” Harry blinked a few times. “Still dizzy but don’t feel like I’m gonna be sick.” His eyes found Narcissa beside the bed and he frowned. “Mrs. Malfoy?”

“Good evening, Harry.” She gave him a gentle smile. “Or perhaps good morning would be more appropriate. I hope you don’t mind that Draco sent for me. He needed me to bring the potions for you.” 

“’s fine. More your house than mine anyway.” Harry shrugged. “’m not a Black. You can have it. Think it likes you and Draco better. I know Kreacher does.”

“That is very kind of you, Harry. But I am afraid I must decline.” Narcissa sat on the edge of the bed and pushed some of his sweaty, limp hair from his forehead. “Sirius left the house to you. He would have wanted you to have it.”

“He hated this house.” Harry summoned the abandoned bottle of firewhiskey but Draco’s reflexes were quicker than his. 

“No more firewhiskey, darling.” He set the bottle down and reached a hand out for the next potion. “Drink this instead, okay?” Harry took the bottle and downed the potion without so much as a wince.

“Sirius hated this stupid fucking house.” He hissed and ran his fingers through his hair and pulled at it. “He hated it. He’d want me to burn the damn place down and salt the earth. With every stupid thing in it. He understood what it felt like to be trapped and he still wouldn’t...” Harry took a deep, shuddering breath. “He still wouldn’t let me stay with him. Made me go back to the Dursleys. Like to burn that house down too.”

“Harry...” Draco reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder but he pulled back from the touch. He glanced up at his mother and she nodded. Draco stood from the bed and Narcissa took his place, sitting beside Harry.

“Harry, sweetheart, I know that this is difficult. And I know that being in this house that your godfather left behind is painful. But you must know that this is not what your parents would want. Your mother would not want you to drink yourself sick and blame yourself for all of the things that have gone wrong in the world.” 

“You can’t know what they would’ve wanted. I don’t know what they wanted. And we’ll never know. Cuz they’re dead.” Harry’s voice broke on the last word. “They’re all dead. So fuck ‘em. What they wanted, what they thought, who cares. They’re dead. And they’re not coming back and it’s my fault.” He was crying again. But this wasn’t the quiet, contained tears from earlier. No. This was gasping, choking sobs that wracked Harry’s too thin body and wrenched at Draco’s heart. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Narcissa wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to her. She gently pressed his head into the crook of her neck as she slowly stroked his hair. “Shhhh. You are safe now, Harry. You are safe. And you are going to be okay.” To Draco’s surprise, Harry wrapped his arms around his mother and sobbed louder. 

“...I-I can’t...h-hurts too much...” He gave a wet cough. “...I just...I want my mum...” Narcissa closed her eyes as she tucked Harry closer to her. 

“I know. I know you do, sweetheart. And I am so sorry. I am sorry that she can’t hold you and comfort you and love you. It isn’t fair. Nothing in your short life has been fair. And you have had to be so strong and so brave for too long.” Even more to his surprise, his mother pulled Harry into her lap and started gently rocking him. “You don’t have to be strong anymore, sweetheart. It’s all right to ask for help.” 

Harry didn’t respond. He just cried harder as he clung to Narcissa like a drowning man. And Draco felt as though he were intruding on something far too private. But rather than leave, he climbed back onto the bed and sat beside his mother and Harry. Nobody spoke. The only sound that broke the silence of the old house were Harry’s sobs. 

It was a bit odd to see his mother holding Harry like her own. Especially considering the stark contrast in their appearance. His dark hair mixing in with Narcissa’s light blonde hair. Her skin pale against his golden brown. Perhaps this was all he really needed though. A mother to hold him and comfort him. Something that he had never had in the last seventeen years of his life. For some reason the realization hit Draco like a physical blow. Harry had never truly had a mother. Nobody had ever given him that all-consuming, unconditional love that only a mother could give. 

It wasn’t that Draco’s own childhood had been all lollies and rainbows. His father had placed ridiculous expectations on him from a young age. And those had only gotten worse when he started at Hogwarts. But Lucius had loved him. In his own misguided, overbearing, strict sort of way. And Narcissa had always doted on him. Her only child, after years of trying, it was no surprise that she smothered him with love and affection and sweets and gifts. He couldn’t imagine going through life without that certainty that his mother loved him. And Harry had suffered through so much in the last seven years. All without being able to seek comfort from his mother.

And, possibly for the first time, Draco really let himself think about what Harry had been through. No mother to hold him and love him and comfort him. No father to encourage him and offer guidance. No friends until he was eleven years old. And all the while, the only family that he had, the people who should have loved him and cared for him, had neglected and abused him instead. And Draco had mocked that. All these years, Harry had been carrying this level of anguish and grief and anger and Draco had taunted him for having no parents. He suddenly felt that he might be as sick as Harry had been not long ago. 

As they sat there, in Sirius’ old bedroom, Harry’s sobs slowly subsided. Narcissa continued to gently stroke his hair and his back. She reached out and took Draco’s hand in her free hand. And his mother, the strongest person he had ever met, aside from perhaps the man she had cradled in her lap, had unshed tears in her eyes. Draco leaned over and gently kissed her forehead. And then the top of Harry’s head for good measure. 

“Come on, sweetheart.” Narcissa whispered into the quiet room. “You need to get some sleep.” Draco reached over to gently pull Harry from her lap and onto the bed. He whined, the sound breaking off halfway through, but didn’t fight it when Draco laid him down on the bed. 

“Don’t go.” Harry managed to croak out. “Please.” His voice broke. 

“We’ll just be downstairs, Harry.” Narcissa stood from the bed and gave him a small smile. “You need to sleep.” She picked up her bag and then the bottle of firewhiskey and stepped out of the room. 

“It’s okay, darling.” Draco brushed his hair back and kissed his forehead. “You’re safe now. Just sleep.” He stood from the bed and pulled the sheets up to cover Harry. Draco spelled off the lights before he followed his mother out of the room. He leaned against the door and took a deep breath. After a moment, he pushed away and headed down to the kitchen where he was sure his mother was. 

“I suppose I was right to worry.” Narcissa sighed as she blew on the cup of tea that Kreacher had prepared for her. Draco nodded and dropped onto the bench across from her. Kreacher popped into the room to set a cup of tea in front of him as well. 

“He isn’t eating. He isn’t sleeping. He’s working himself to death at the worthless Ministry in between not eating and not sleeping.” Draco dropped his head into his hands. He took a deep, shuddering breath. “...I think...” He hesitated. Another breath. “I think he may be trying to...inadvertently kill himself.” As soon as the words left his mouth, as soon as they existed outside of his own head and took shape in reality, he felt the sting of tears in his eyes. “I don’t know what to do, Mum.” He looked up at her and saw those tears again. “What do I do?” 

“Oh, my little dragon.” She stood and swept around the table to take him in her arms. “It is not your responsibility to save him. Unfortunately, only he can do that.” 

“He saved me, Mum. From the fiendfyre. From living the rest of my life under the thumb of a madman. He saved us all. It isn’t fair that he has to save himself too.” 

“No, no it isn’t, dear.” Narcissa sighed. “But you know better than anyone that there are some things that outside forces cannot save us from. Your mind healer even told you as much. That you won’t get better until you want to be better. Nobody could force you to heal yourself. And you can’t force Harry to heal himself. He has to decide that he wants to get better.”

“What if he doesn’t?” Draco winced when his voice broke. “What if he never decides to get better? Or even ask for help? Merlin, if I hadn’t decided to check on him...” A violent shudder ran down his spine. 

“Then he doesn’t get better. You cannot fix him, little dragon. All you can do is offer him your support and your friendship. Let him know that you care for him and that you are here for him, should he need it. That is all you can do.” She squeezed his shoulders. “You cannot put your own health and needs on the line to help him.” 

“When will it be over?” Draco was exhausted. Not just from the emotionally draining evening but from the war and the aftermath. He had spent the better part of three years terrified. For himself, for his mother, for his friends. Even for his father. Once Tom Riddle was dead, he had rather hoped that things could go back to some semblance of normal. Apparently he had been foolish to think it would that simple. 

“Would you like the truth or comforting platitudes?” His mother ran her fingers through his hair and he sighed. 

“The truth.” 

“It may never be over for us. For Harry. All of us lived through something truly horrifying and traumatic. And we will carry those scars with us forever. Time will help. And accepting and dealing with the consequences will help. That is why I insisted that you see a mind healer so quickly. Harry is avoiding dealing with it.” 

“...I think that he thinks he doesn’t need to. Or that he can manage by himself. He doesn’t want to rely on anybody.” 

“I can’t say that I’m surprised.” Narcissa sighed heavily and pulled back from the embrace. She reached across the table to pick up her tea. “For ten years, he had to rely on himself. And in the end, he could only rely on himself. He may have had help but he walked into the Forest alone that night.”

“I wish we could have seen each other properly that day.” Draco cast a quick heating charm on his tea that had cooled. “That I could have seen that he was suffering just as I was. That we could have helped each other. Instead we hurt each other.” 

“Ah, if wishes were horses...”

“Beggars would ride.” Draco couldn’t help the small smile her words brought. He rested his head on her shoulder and was once again so grateful to still have his mother by his side. The things that he had done, that he had been willing to do, to keep her safe had been frightening in and of itself. More frightening still was the thought that he would do it all again if he had to.

They sat in relative silence at the old table. Pocked and mottled with age and use and disuse. The tea cups were as old and dingy as the rest of the house. But the tea was warm and bright and familiar and comforting. It was nondescript enough that Draco felt fairly certain that it was nothing more than English breakfast blend. The kind of tea served in the Hogwarts Great Hall every morning. Of course that is what Harry would keep on hand.

Everything about the house was so unlike Harry that Draco found it all so disconcerting. He had always associated bright colors with him. Red and gold and green. Even when Draco was doing his best to hate the skinny git, he couldn’t help but notice his bright smile and his raucous laugh with the Weasley twins. Harry was so unlike himself these days. Perhaps the house was seeping into his bones and his mind and his heart. Or perhaps it was simply that Harry was truly alone for the first time in years. Alone and hurt and grieving in this cold, dark house full of ghosts and regret. 

Draco sighed as he took another sip of his tea. His mother was right that he had no control over the situation. And he was desperately tired of having no control. But did he share with the other people in Harry’s life what he knew? Should he write to Hermione and let her know just how badly Harry was struggling? Maybe visit Andromeda and ask her to check on him regularly. Perhaps the reminder that he had a godson to help support would make Harry take better care of himself. But was it his place to tell anyone? These were some of Harry’s darkest and best kept secrets. 

“Do you want me to stay?” Narcissa was gazing at him from across the table. “I can.” 

“No. You have done more than enough. I’m going to stay with him until Sunday night. Make sure that the worst is behind him.” 

“All right, my love. If you’re certain.” She stood slowly and walked around the table to him. His mother kissed the top of his head and lingered for a moment. “He will be all right. He has survived this long. I believe he will be fine. Eventually.” 

“I hope that you’re right, Mother.” Draco looked up at her and gave her a small smile. “I will be home later.” He took her hand and kissed her knuckles gently. “Go. Get some rest.”

“I love you, my little dragon.” 

“And I you, Mother.” She smiled softly before she turned and walked to the Floo with her bag. “Call if you need me.” His mother stepped into the Floo and vanished in a flash of green flame. Draco sighed heavily and rested his head against the table. 

“Is Master Draco needing more tea?” Kreacher stood hunched by his elbow. 

“No, thank you, Kreacher. I think I should attempt to get some sleep.” 

“That sounds wise, Master Draco.” Kreacher bowed lowly. “If Master Draco is needing Kreacher, he is just needing to call.” The elf disappeared with a soft pop. Draco sat up and stretched. It had been a very long day and he needed to just lay down and rest his eyes. He got up from the table and dragged himself back to the stairs. For a moment he considered trying to sleep in another room and let Harry have some space. But given the weekend that Harry had had, it would probably be best to be there when he woke up. 


	2. In the Arms of Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry have a more sober encounter in the early hours of Sunday morning follow Samhain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, it was a little more than a few days but I got it finished! Thank you to everyone who has read, kudoed, and commented on this series! It means so much to me!

Draco stood in the doorway of the bedroom and looked at the man curled up into a ball on the bed. His dark hair was a mess of unwashed curls, tangled and sticking to his forehead. He wondered if his sleeping position was a habit born from sleeping in a cupboard. Draco clenched his fists tightly before he forced himself to relax. Being angry and upset at the state of Harry’s life up until now would not be helpful to either of them. With a sigh, he walked over to the bed and carefully climbed in next to Harry. 

He closed his eyes and tried to relax. If only he were here under the same circumstances as his last visit. Exhausted and sated from shagging Harry into the mattress. It had been incredible. But it had also felt too much like goodbye. And it should have felt like a beginning. It simply was not fair that after all these years they had finally come together only to have life and circumstance pull them apart again. 

Harry groaned and Draco opened his eyes to see if he was still asleep. And he was. For now. His brow was furrowed and he was uncurling from his balled-up position. No point in closing his eyes now. Harry was likely to wake from a nightmare soon. Were they getting better or worse? Likely the same. Possibly worse. Draco had no room to talk. He still woke in a cold sweat with a phantom ache in his chest. Or the feel of smoke in his lungs. His nightmares were getting fewer and farther between but they still happened at least once or twice a week. He would take that over having them every night. As Harry likely did. 

The man in question bolted upright with a loud gasp. His wand had appeared in his hand and he was looking around the room wildly. The room lit up with a wordless spell and his eyes finally landed on Draco. And Draco wasn’t sure what he had been expecting but a stunner to the chest had not been it. He fell off the bed with a strangled shout. 

“What the bloody hell, Potter?!” Draco jumped back up from the floor and glared at his companion. But his ire quickly faded. “...Harry?” Harry was staring at him with wide, red-rimmed eyes. And he was looking at Draco like he couldn’t believe he was there. 

“...Draco? H-How long have you been here?” 

“I think about the time you decided to blast some Phineas someone or other off the family tree.” Draco dusted himself off before he climbed back onto the bed. 

“So that wasn’t an alcohol induced dream?”

“I am afraid not, darling.” Draco shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. Harry let out a shaky sigh next to him and fell back on the bed. “How are you feeling?” 

“...Like I just climbed out of the Black Lake...” He pushed his hair back and off his face. “Still a little drunk.” 

“I’m not surprised. You had rather a lot to drink. And nothing to eat.” 

“Food was kinda secondary.” 

“Harry--” 

“Don’t.” Harry bit out. “I don’t wanna hear the lecture.” He closed his eyes. “Every day it seems. ‘Harry, you need to eat. Harry, you need to sleep. Harry, why are you getting pissed alone on Halloween? Harry, why don’t you talk to someone? Harry, it’s okay to ask for help.’ I’m really over it.” 

“Well people wouldn’t have to lecture you so much if you would perhaps listen to reason once in a while.” Harry glared over at him. “You cannot go two days without eating or sleeping. You cannot just drink until you pass out. Or die. Merlin’s sake, Harry, you need to take care of yourself!” 

“I am taking care of myself!” Harry shouted back as he stood from the bed. “I have been taking care of myself since I was three! And I somehow managed to survive.” Oh. Oh gods. 

“...You’re taking care of yourself the only way you know how. The way you had to take care of yourself when your aunt and uncle neglected and starved and abused you.” 

“And I survived without anyone's help.” 

“And that is all you were doing! You were surviving, Harry! And you were a child. You are a grown man now. You are training to be an Auror. You need to eat and you need to sleep.” 

“I’m fine.” Harry pushed his unruly hair back from his face. “I’m fine.” 

“And who are you trying to convince? Me or you?”

“Fuck you, Draco.” Harry hissed and gripped his wand tighter. “You don’t get to show up, unannounced, at my house, on the anniversary of one of the worst days of my life, and lecture me! You don’t get to pop in from Paris looking perfect and beautiful and tell me what a fuck up I am! You don’t get to show up in my life again when you wanted so fucking desperately to get away from me!” Harry was breathing heavily and shaking. Tears slid slowly down his cheeks and he dropped his wand to wipe angrily at his face. He turned away from Draco. “Just go back to your perfectly normal life in Paris and leave me alone.”

“Harry...” Something twisted in Draco’s stomach at his words. At his tone. At how broken his face had looked. The tight, twisting moved from his stomach and up into his chest. Like a snake, slithering and constricting. “I snogged Blaise tonight. Well, last night. Earlier.”

“Thought he was an arrogant prat whose good looks didn’t make up for his shitty personality?” He could hear the bitterness in Harry’s voice even if he couldn’t see it on his face.

“So did I. And quite frankly, that is still true. But I was drinking and lonely. And he looked fit and has been trying to get me into bed for the better part of three months.”

“Well, how nice for you. And Blaise. You’ll have to tell me if his arrogance translates better in the bedroom.” 

“Is that all you have to say? You want me to tell you if he is good in bed?” 

“What do you want me to say, Draco?” Harry turned back around and the tears were still there. His face was flushed and his jaw clenched. “We purposefully didn’t make any promises to each other. We’re just friends. Because we’re just two eighteen-year old boys and can’t possibly be expected to maintain a long-distance relationship.” Draco knew that the decision to remain friends and nothing more had been the right choice. It was the healthy choice. And yet, hearing his own words spit back at him hurt more than he would have thought. “You don’t owe me any explanations or excuses. You wanna shag Blaise? Be my guest.” 

“...He is rather a good kisser. I am sure that he can do rather impressive things with his mouth elsewhere.” He watched as Harry clenched his fists again. Why was he doing this? This was not why he had stayed. He had stayed to comfort Harry. To keep him from drinking himself into a coma. But if Harry wanted a fight, Draco would oblige. He always had. “And a rather fuckable arse.” 

“Then what are you still doing here? Go fuck his perfect, fit arse and leave me alone.” Harry turned his back on him again. Draco walked around the bed to stand behind him. He grabbed his hips harshly and leaned in. 

“You don’t really want that though, do you?” Draco kissed the side of his neck, running his teeth along his pulse point. “You don’t want me to Apparate to his Parisian flat and push him against the door to the balcony. You don’t want me to bend him over the railing and fuck him until he’s screaming my name. We both know that isn’t remotely what you want.” 

“...F-Fuck you, Draco.” Harry tilted his head to the side and Draco smirked against his skin. He tightened his grip on his hips and pulled Harry flush against him. 

“Maybe later. If you behave.” Draco bit his neck and then stepped back. Harry whirled around and narrowed his eyes at him. 

“I’m not a fucking child.” 

“Then perhaps you should stop acting like one.” Draco crossed his arms over his chest. “I cannot begin to try and understand how you are feeling, Harry. You have lost so much and so many people. But there are still people that care about you. Ron, Hermione, all of the Weasleys, my mother, Andromeda and Teddy, Lovegood, Longbottom.” He sighed heavily and held his arms out. Harry hesitated for a long moment. Finally, with a small, defeated sigh, Harry walked over and let Draco wrap his arms around him. “They have lost people, too. How do you think they would handle it if they lost you as well? After everything?”

“I’m just so tired. I’m tired of thinking about everyone else.” Harry pressed his face against his chest and Draco tightened his hold on him. 

“I know, darling. You deserve to indulge in some selfish, self-centered behaviour. And I would be more than willing to let you. If you weren’t trying to drink yourself to death.”

“I really wasn’t. I just...” Harry took a deep, shuddering breath. “I just felt so angry and sad and alone and I didn’t wanna feel any of it anymore. So I just kept drinking.” 

“Why didn’t you contact someone? Ron or Hermione? Me?” 

“Ron and Hermione are at Hogwarts. Nothing they can do for me except worry and send me incredibly long letters telling me to drop out of Auror training and go back to Hogwarts with them. And you...” Harry shook his head. “I didn’t know if that was allowed.” 

“Allowed? Harry, what--” 

“We said no promises. That taking time for ourselves and getting space was a good thing. And I didn’t...you wanted distance from me. And from here. And I wanted you to be here so fucking badly. But what if you said it wasn’t a good idea? Or that you didn’t want to see me? Or maybe you came because you felt obligated and then you would resent me for making you come back to London and...then I started drinking and I got angry with you and me and everyone else and I didn’t want to be around anyone.” 

“Harry, I will always come if you need me. Aside from anything else, we are friends now. And friends support each other. And are there for each other.” Draco pulled back and gently cradled Harry’s face in his hands. “I meant what I said earlier. I cannot live in a world without you. So next time, and I sincerely hope that there will not be a next time, you contact me. Send Kreacher to fetch me. Promise me, Harry.” 

“Draco...” Harry looked up at him. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy with an anguish behind them that Draco truly could not begin to comprehend. 

“Please, Harry. Please promise me.” Draco leaned down and gently kissed him, pulling him close. And he could not explain what it was but this kiss was so vastly different from the ones that he had shared earlier with Blaise. Kissing Harry felt like breathing. And yet it filled him with a desperation for more. To be closer, to kiss deeper, to feel more of Harry under his hands. Snogging Blaise had been nice enough. But this was something else entirely. “Promise me, Harry.” They were breathing in each other’s air and Harry’s eyes were half-lidded.

“...I promise.” Harry finally breathed against his lips before pressing forward again. He wrapped his arms around Draco’s neck, holding onto him as though he would vanish into thin air. And the kiss quickly became as desperate as Draco had felt just a moment ago. Draco wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him flush against him again. Harry wound his fingers into his hair and sighed. And Draco could practically feel some of the tension leaving his partner’s body.

“...Harry...” He pulled back, breathing harshly. “We probably shouldn’t...” Immediately, all of that tension returned and Harry stepped back. 

“Right. Of course. Sorry.” Harry ran a hand through his hair and grimaced. “I’m gonna take a shower. You should probably head home.” He turned and walked into the bathroom and closed the door. Draco stared at the closed door for several minutes. 

Draco heaved a sigh and fell back on the bed. It was true. They really should not shag right now. Harry was in an incredibly fragile and volatile state and the last thing Draco should be doing was pressing him into the mattress and shagging him senseless. As much as he desperately wanted to. And he did desperately want to. That first month in Paris, he had practically wanked himself raw over the memory of their first and last shag. The memory of sinking in to the tight, all-encompassing heat that was Harry. The sounds that Harry had made as Draco fucked into him. And the way he had looked when he had come on Draco’s cock. 

He groaned and covered his face with his hands. It had been two months and the bloody English Channel between them. And it hadn’t done anything to temper or dampen his feelings for Harry. His physical feelings were one thing. Draco had spent the last few years wanting to fuck Harry silly. But now he actually liked the git. He cared about him. He... No. Draco would not allow himself to even think it much less say it out loud. It was ridiculous. Ludicrous. And that was precisely why he should do as Harry asked. Just get up and go home. Go back to the flat he shared with his mother in Paris and maybe shag Blaise tomorrow night. Because he and Harry were just friends. And he had done his friendly duty. Right? 

The problem was that Draco wasn’t as good at lying to himself anymore. Back at school and in the war, he could convince himself of most anything. He was doing the right thing. He was doing it to protect his mother. He didn’t care if he killed an innocent girl or an old man. He wanted to watch Harry be tortured. Hermione deserved the torture his aunt bestowed on her. But now, Draco could barely convince himself to go home when Harry had already told him to. 

Of course, that was the other problem wasn’t it? Harry had asked Draco multiple times to go home tonight. A few times he had even told him, practically ordered Draco to fuck off back to Paris. His anger and biting words hiding something far more sinister. Harry was hurting. Harry was hurting in a deep, visceral way. The pain and trauma carved into his bones. His soul had been changed. Ripped out and shoved back in. And when confronted with comfort or release or understanding, Harry was lashing out like an offended hippogriff. Draco could leave. He could tell himself that Harry was fine now and that he had done all he could to help him. But he just wasn’t as good a liar as he used to be. 

The door to the bathroom opened and a cloud of steam billowed out into the rather chilly atmosphere of the rest of the house. Draco sat up and tried to look like he had at least been planning to leave. Harry stepped through the door with a towel wrapped around his narrow hips and another tousling his dark hair. He stopped when his eyes landed on Draco sitting on the foot of his bed. Harry squinted and frowned, his face missing his signature spectacles. 

“Draco?”

“Who else would it be?” Draco stood from the bed and walked over to him.

“A figment of my imagination? A ghost? Sirius and Regulus both had black hair but you never know with ghosts.” Harry shrugged. “What are you still doing here?” 

“Do you want the truth?” Draco whispered as he took the towel that was drying his hair out of his hands. 

“Generally, I prefer the truth. It’s a precious commodity in my life.” Harry crossed his arms over his chest. 

“I started thinking about the last time I was in this room.” Draco gripped his hips again. “The last time I was in this bed.” He leaned in and started nibbling on his earlobe. “The noises you made with my cock in your arse.” Harry gasped when Draco sucked. “The way your arse felt around me.” Draco’s hands moved from his hips to grip said arse through the towel. 

“...I-I thought we shouldn’t...” Harry was breathless, his eyes heavy-lidded. 

“Probably.” Draco pulled him against him and groaned when he felt Harry’s hard cock pressed against his hip. “But you and I have never been terribly good at doing the things we should do.” 

“I always do what I’m told.” Harry murmured. He tilted his head up in silent invitation and who was Draco to deny him? He leaned down and captured Harry’s mouth in a heated, desperate kiss. Harry walked him backwards to the bed and Draco went all too willingly. “I’ve just never been good at staying away from you.” Harry pushed him to sit on the bed once more and dropped the towel from around his waist. 

There was something so brutally devastating about the way Harry said it. Something that conjured images of him lying awake at night in his four-poster bed, wanking to thoughts, not of Draco, but of  _ Malfoy _ . That there had been suspicion and intrigue and animosity between them. But that there had also been something else simmering below the surface all those years. And fuck if that didn’t do something painful to Draco’s stomach. That tight, coiled serpent constricting around his abdominals and his chest. And his cock. 

Draco reached out and fit his hands onto those sharp hipbones again. And as he looked over Harry, naked and aroused, for the first time in two months, his own arousal dampened. Harry had indeed been losing more weight since he had left. And despite the fact that he was living in his own home with a steady job and a house elf, he looked worse than he had after surviving on the run for almost a year. Draco rubbed his hips gently with his thumbs and dragged his eyes back up to Harry’s face. 

His green eyes were hard as he met Draco’s gaze. Hard and unyielding, but glistening with something more fragile. Emeralds. That’s what his gaze reminded Draco of. The emeralds found in the Malfoy vaults and his mother’s jewelry. Emerald eyes and onyx hair and now was not the time to start waxing poetic. Harry had taken a step back from him. He was closing off as quickly as he had opened up. 

“Draco...” Harry was no longer looking at him. His gaze was steadfastly on the floor. “Please just don’t. I can’t...I just want...” He cut himself off with a frustrated growl and clenched his fists. Those damn eyes looked up again. “I want you. I want you and I need you to...make me feel something other than this fucking... Please. I need you.” 

“Come here.” Draco widened his legs and Harry stepped between them. “I will always want you.” He whispered the damning words into Harry’s flat abdomen. Harry ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. He glanced up at Harry. “Tell me what you need, darling.” Harry groaned and tilted his head back, his eyes falling shut. 

“You. I need you. Please, Draco. Anything. Everything. Fuck, when I close my eyes, if it isn’t the nightmares, it’s you. It’s always you.” Draco could feel the staccato rhythm of Harry’s heartbeat through the tender skin of his abdomen. “I’ve missed you. Whatever you can give me, I want it.” He tightened his grip in Draco’s hair. 

_ Mon dieu _ , Harry was quite literally going to be the death of him. He had to stop saying things like this. He had to stop ripping his heart out and presenting it to Draco as though that was a smart decision. And he had to stop trying to reach in and squeeze Draco’s heart until it burst. They had never managed to do things halfway. It was all or nothing. Harry wanted it all. And Draco...while he didn’t want nothing, he knew that neither of them truly had all of themselves to give. And this was dangerous territory. Because somehow Draco knew. He could feel it in the slight tremble of Harry’s body. In the quickening of his own breath. They would rip themselves to shreds trying to make the other whole again with the jagged pieces.

But Harry and Draco had that in common didn’t they? Draco had never been good at staying away from Harry either. And in the face of all the shit that Harry had endured not just in the last year, but for the last seventeen years, Draco didn’t have the strength to push him away. To tell him that for both of their sakes this was a terrible idea. Harry was already fraying at the edges and he wanted Draco to pull on the strings. And if Draco didn’t then he knew Harry would just find another way to tatter himself further. In truth, he knew that he was just making excuses for what he was about to do. He was about to give in. Not because Harry needed him to or wanted him to. No. That was only part of it. Draco was going to give in because he wanted to.

Draco gently pulled on his hips until Harry was straddling his lap. He leaned forward and nosed behind Harry’s ear, breathing in the scent of his shampoo. Harry breathed out a shaky sigh and pulled him into a kiss. Draco ran his hands up his back to settle on his pronounced shoulder blades. Together, they fumbled their way further up the bed until Draco was on his back with Harry straddled above him. 

“Fuck me.” Harry pushed Draco’s shirt up and tugged it over his head. “Please, Draco. Please fuck me.” His hips were rocking against Draco. His bare, hard cock rubbing against Draco’s clothed one. Harry leaned down and took Draco’s mouth in a searing kiss. He pulled away and trailed kisses and bites along Draco’s collarbone and chest. Sucking bruises on his sternum and licking his nipples. Draco tossed his head back and moaned. He hadn’t realized just how much he had missed those lips and hands on his body until he had them back.

Harry undid his trousers and Draco lifted his hips to aid in their expedient removal. His cock was hard and leaking copious amounts of precome. And Harry dropped his trousers and pants on the floor as he licked the tip of his prick. Slowly, Harry took the head of his cock into his mouth and sucked. 

“Fuck, Harry.” Draco looked down to watch as his cock slid between those kiss swollen lips. He dragged his fingers through Harry’s wet hair and pulled. Harry moaned around his cock and Draco tilted his head back. He fucking loved Harry’s hair. He loved to run his fingers through it. And he loved to pull and tug on it. And Draco loved that Harry loved it. When they were still in school, he had always wanted to run his fingers through that unruly mess. And now Draco could touch it whenever he wanted. 

Harry took more of his cock into his mouth and hummed around it. Draco bucked his hips and pulled tighter on those thick, black locks. Merlin, he had forgotten how good that mouth felt around him. Harry moaned and Draco pulled him off with another harsh tug on his hair. 

“I can’t fuck you if I’ve come down your throat, baby.” Draco dragged him back up and into another kiss. Kissing Harry felt revelatory. It felt life-changing. And perhaps that’s because it was. Since that first time their lips had met, both of their lives had changed dramatically. Draco trailed his hands down Harry’s back to grasp his arse. Harry moaned against his lips. He must have been terribly distracted by Harry’s mouth because apparently, he had started stretching himself for Draco’s prick. 

“Need you...” Harry groaned and Draco watched him push two fingers into himself. 

“Merlin.” Draco closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “Have you been practicing without me?” 

“I’ve been fucking myself with my fingers, wishing they were yours, for two months now.” He shivered on top of Draco. “And it’s not been even close to satisfying.” 

“No?” Draco gripped his hips, rubbing his thumbs over his sharp hipbones. “My hand wasn’t close to an acceptable substitute for you.” 

“Fucking Christ, Draco.” Harry pulled his hand away and shuffled further up Draco’s body. He gripped his cock with one hand, spreading the remnants of the lube over him, as he raised up on his knees. 

Harry held the base of Draco’s cock as he slowly lowered himself, the head breaching him. Draco hissed at the overwhelming heat and tightness of Harry. He held himself stiffly above Draco for a moment before he continued to take more of his cock. Draco couldn’t help the small, aborted thrust of his hips upward. Harry moaned and finally settled himself on top of Draco. He leaned forward, hands pressed in the mattress beside Draco’s head, panting harshly, his eyes closed. 

Finally, Harry opened his eyes and gazed down at Draco. Those green eyes seared into his soul. Draco ran his fingers through his hair and pulled him into a gentle kiss. The urgency and desperation to feel each other again tempered briefly as they kissed. He tried to commit everything to memory. The feel of Harry’s lips on his. The quiet little sounds he pressed into Draco’s mouth. His warm skin under his palms. The tight heat around his cock. Those bloody gorgeous green eyes that looked at Draco like he held all the answers. 

Draco raised his hips to adjust his position and it pulled them both out of their reverie. Harry pressed his hands onto his chest and started to rock his hips slowly. This was a new position for both of them and Harry seemed to be trying to get his bearings. Draco gripped his hips tightly as he did his best to stay still. He wanted to let Harry get used to everything. And he didn’t want to interrupt the slow, mind-numbing rhythm that he was moving in. 

Harry shifted, sitting up and taking Draco’s cock further inside of him. He closed his eyes and groaned before he rose up on his knees and then dropped back down. Draco knew that, come morning, there would be bruises on Harry’s sharp hipbones. And he couldn’t bring himself to care. The feeling of being buried inside Harry again after months apart was too intense. And the feel of his skin under his hands. 

“Fuck, Harry...” Draco forced himself to keep his eyes open. He wanted to remember the sight of Harry on top of him, fucking himself on his cock. The memory would get him through the next few months. Just like the memory of their previous tryst. Draco’s hands moved up to caress his chest, thumbing over hard nipples. Harry groaned and clenched around his cock. Draco bucked his hips up at the feeling and had to close his eyes at the sharp cry of pleasure it tore from Harry’s throat. 

Draco moved to cradle his back with his arms and sat up to take those gorgeous lips in a harsh kiss. He bit down on Harry’s full bottom lip. Harry whined and trembled in his arms. He broke from the kiss, his lip bleeding, and rested his forehead against Draco’s shoulder. 

“Draco, please...” Harry had all but ceased moving, leaving Draco to rock his hips slowly into him. 

“Please what?” He felt a shiver run down his spine at the sound of Harry’s voice. He was breathless, whining and moaning into the hollow of Draco’s throat. 

“Fuck me.” Draco couldn’t help the chuckle that fell from his lips. 

“I am, darling.” He kissed the top of his head, his black curls still damp from his shower. Or possibly from their exertions. Harry groaned and pressed his lips to Draco’s collarbone, sucking what would likely be a dark bruise there. 

“No, Draco. Fuck me.” He pulled back to look him in the eye. Emerald met silver and Draco rocked his hips a bit harder than he’d intended. “I want...I want to be able to feel you for days. I want to feel you and remember this moment.” 

“You are trying to kill me.” Draco shook his head. He leaned down and captured his lips in another rough kiss. “This has all been a devious ploy to murder me.” 

“Least you’ll die happy?” Harry raised an eyebrow and Draco bit his tongue to keep from smiling. 

“If you do say so yourself.” Draco kissed him again before pulling out, ignoring the whine of protest from Harry. “Turn around.” 

“...Why?” 

“If you want me to fuck you properly, this position will give me more leverage, now. Turn. Around.” The shiver at his words did not go unnoticed. Harry turned slowly and immediately got onto his hands and knees. And fuck if that wasn’t the most arousing sight. Draco knelt behind him and carefully pushed Harry further down, onto his forearms. 

Draco nodded, even more pleased with this position. Fuck. How did Harry manage to look borderline emaciated and gorgeous at the same time? It reminded him vaguely of those Muggle magazines. The women both incredibly beautiful and obviously underweight. Harry was rather more beautiful, in his opinion. He positioned the head of his cock at Harry’s entrance, gripped his hips tightly, and thrust in roughly. Harry cried out and dropped his head to the mattress. Draco groaned at being back in the tight, overwhelming heat of Harry’s body. He leaned down and gently nipped on his ear. 

“You are so bloody gorgeous like this.” He bit down on Harry’s shoulder. “Another memory to add to my pensieve collection.” Harry moaned and lifted his head to speak but Draco was having none of it. He sat back and pulled his cock almost completely out of Harry, leaving just the head inside, before he slammed back in. 

Harry shouted and fisted the sheets in his hands. He pushed his arse back and Draco bit his lip to hold in another chuckle. His companion was so eager and desperate for it. Though Draco was hardly one to talk. He could feel his cock throbbing with his own desperation. Draco started a brutal pace, slamming his cock into Harry’s arse. 

“Jesus, fuck, Draco!” Harry cried out and continued to rock back to meet his thrusts. Draco gripped his hips and had to close his eyes. His senses were overwhelmed with Harry. The scent of his sweat and his shampoo. The sounds he made when Draco found his prostate and ground his hips into Harry’s  arse . The taste of his mouth; hints of  firewhiskey and the bitter, syrupy taste of potions lingering on his tongue. The feel of Harry’s smooth skin, hot and slick with sweat and lube under his hands. And, of course, the picture he made. His forearms on the mattress, his head hanging down as he panted and moaned. His tight  arse taking Draco’s cock and his hips rocking in tandem. 

Draco moved one hand from his hips to tangle in that mess of black hair. He ran his fingers through it, tugging on it to lift Harry’s head up. Harry groaned and let Draco tilt his head back. Draco tightened his grip in his hair and Harry arched his back, crying out. Fuck, the sounds that Draco was able to pull from those lips would be the death of him. He could feel his impending orgasm approaching rapidly. 

“You close, baby?” Draco leaned down and sucked his earlobe into his mouth. Harry moaned and did his best to nod his head while Draco had a firm grip on his hair. 

“’m so close. Please, Draco...” Harry whined and Draco nearly came from the sound alone. He pulled his hand reluctantly from his hair and instead wrapped it around Harry’s leaking cock. Harry moaned loudly and bucked his hips, fucking into the tight grip of Draco’s fist. It only took a few more strokes before Harry came with a shout. Draco groaned and thrust into Harry twice more before he came as well, moaning Harry’s name into the junction on his neck and shoulder. 

They collapsed together onto the bed, uncaring for the moment about the mess. Draco kissed the back of his sweaty neck and gently nibbled at his earlobe. Harry tilted his head to the side and made a content sort of humming noise. Reluctantly, Draco rolled off of him and laid on his back on the bed. Harry moved to lay on his side and raised up on his elbow to look down at Draco. He looked well shagged and Draco felt a brief surge of pride at putting that fucked  out look on that handsome face. 

“So much for we shouldn’t do that.” Harry smirked down at him and Draco grabbed the pillow under his head to hit that look off his face. 

“Shove off, Potter.” Draco rolled his eyes but couldn’t keep the slight smile off his face. Harry laughed and dropped onto the bed on his back. They laid in silence for a few minutes, their breath slowing and evening out. 

“...Thanks.” Draco startled and looked over at Harry. 

“Did you just thank me for shagging you?” 

“No, you prat.” Harry gave him a gentle shove. “I was thanking you for making me feel something other than miserable.” 

“Ah.” Draco glanced over at him. “It was my pleasure.” 

“Merlin, that was terrible.” Harry groaned. He rolled to his side and pressed a kiss to Draco’s lips. “...Do you need to get home?” 

“Not right this second.” Draco raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you could ask me what you actually meant?” 

“That...was what I meant?” Draco sighed and closed his eyes. 

“Harry, darling, it is okay to ask for things. You are allowed to ask for what you want.” He opened his eyes and looked up at Harry. Those green eyes were watching him carefully. 

“Can you stay?” Harry breathed, barely above a whisper. As though he were afraid if he spoke the words too loudly, Draco would rebuke him. 

“ Of course I can stay, darling.” 

“J-Just for tonight. Obviously. I know you need to get back to Paris.” 

“Relax, Harry.” Draco grabbed his wand from the floor and cast a perfunctory cleaning spell. He dropped it back to the floor and held his arms out. Harry hesitated before he moved into the crook of Draco’s arm. 

“I’m sorry. About the things I said before.”

“You were rather drunk. I can’t exactly hold it against you. I know you didn’t mean it.” 

“Well, that’s the thing.” Harry sighed and buried his head into his chest. “I  sorta did mean those things. But I know that isn’t fair. I know you didn’t move to the continent specifically to be away from me. Logically, I get that. But...emotionally it just...I dunno.” 

“I should imagine that it has something to do with your upbringing.” Draco paused. “Have you thought about going to a mind healer?” He felt Harry stiffen in his arms. He ran his fingers through his hair in what he hoped was a calming gesture. 

“...It’s been mentioned.” Harry sighed. “But I can’t exactly go to a mind  healer can I? The Prophet would have a bloody field day. ‘Confirmation that Potter Has Been Crazy for Years.’ Besides, I don’t need it. I’m doing fine.” 

“This is fine, is it? I should hate to see you when you’re doing poorly.” Draco rolled his eyes. As far as he could tell, Harry was an absolute mess. A swirling cauldron of grief, anger, trauma, guilt, and alcohol. A recipe for disaster if ever Draco saw one. And he had been in Potions with Finnegan and Longbottom, both of whom were somehow constantly blowing up  their cauldrons. 

“This was a bad night.” Harry  snapped, his tone defensive. “It’s not like this is how I am every day. Most of the time, I’m fine. I go to work and training and I study and I help Kreacher clear out some of the more obviously evil objects in here. I’m fine.” 

“If you say so.” Draco sighed. This was clearly a losing battle. “Just...think about it. If things get too bad, it’s an option.” 

“And I suppose you go to a mind healer, then?” 

“I do, as a matter of fact. Mother was rather insistent after our first week in Paris. She was concerned when I woke every night screaming.” He felt Harry wrap an arm around his middle and squeeze. “She is seeing a mind healer of her own.”

“You’re starting to sound like Hermione.” Harry groaned. “Look, can we please drop this? I’m fine.” 

“Fine.” Draco sniffed. “You should rest anyway.” He pulled Harry close and continued to run soothing fingers through his mess of hair. “Sleep, darling. I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

“...Promise?” 

“I promise.” Draco kissed his forehead and pushed his hair back. Harry sighed softly and curled closer to him. He closed his eyes and his utter exhaustion must have caught up to him as he fell asleep only moments later. 

Draco managed to pull the blankets up around them in some semblance of what they should be. He laid back against the pillows and looked down at Harry. In sleep, he almost looked peaceful. The only indication that his waking hours were plagued with so much was a small furrow between his brows. Even sleeping, Harry could not truly relax. And that was far more telling than perhaps anything else Draco had seen this evening was. He reached out and gently tried to smooth the lines with his thumb. 

Tomorrow, they would have to say farewell once more. Draco would return to Paris and the healer program and his mother and the  ever-complicated relationship with Blaise. And Harry would return to the Ministry and  Auror training and studying and Kreacher. Harry would come home to a dark, dank, and empty house Monday evening. And every evening after for months to come. But Mother was right. It was not his job to fix Harry. All he could do was offer his support. If Harry would accept it. 

But that was all for tomorrow. For tonight, Draco could hold Harry in his arms and pretend that they would fall asleep like this the next night. Tonight, Draco could do his best to keep the nightmares at bay. To keep the darkness from swallowing the house whole. And Harry with it. Tonight, tonight they could sleep peacefully in each other’s arms and let tomorrow worry about itself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a slightly more hopeful ending than the last installment. But don't get too comfortable. There is more to come! And hopefully quicker than last time. What better time to deal with your own personal demons through cathartic writing of fictional characters demons, right? Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are life, y'all!

**Author's Note:**

> My original installment count is probably gonna be hella off, just FYI. Comments and kudos are life, y'all!


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